


kingsguard

by septinembers



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Game of Thrones References, GoT au, Inspired by Game of Thrones, King Baekhyun!!, Knight Chanyeol!!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 15:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15122774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septinembers/pseuds/septinembers
Summary: And it was during that fateful day Chanyeol knew: he would serve him all his life and, if so need be, die for him.





	kingsguard

**Author's Note:**

> I was incredibly touched by Renly and Brienne’s backstory that I couldn’t help write a Chanbaek fic based on it! I wrote this I think a year ago? And I barely made any edits to it, so sorry for the errors;; If anyone’s curious about the backstory though, here’s a link to it: http://scifi.stackexchange.com/questions/15770/why-is-brienne-so-excessively-loyal-to-renly-baratheon
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this drabble as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The small giggle that comes from the woman’s lips is nearly inaudible but from the way their bodies press against each other as they dance to the music makes it possible for him to hear the mocking undertone to it.

Chanyeol’s used to it, really. Growing up looking quite ‘different’ from the other children made him numb to the slightest of remarks, even from those of noble ladies of his status.

And he knows the very fact that a cluster of them are here in his coming of age celebration is for these women to boast of the privilege of dancing with a noble lord, especially from a strong noble house albeit small in military number.

Oh, what he would do to return to his chambers and prepare for training in the courtyard rather than spend all his morning dancing with women who he equally dislikes as much, anyway. But alas, a lord who turns eighteen is widely celebrated all throughout the kingdom in preparation for knighthood, leadership, or more importantly, for the succession of his house as he turns 21.

And if he was going to be a lord of his house, he needs to promote good relations among his subjects and hopefully, find a suitable woman to marry and carry his heir. But that is nowhere near Chanyeol’s priorities.

Besides, who would ever want someone like him?

Women only talk to him because of his status and fortune, not for his personality nor for the ghastly scar that ripped across his face. And that is something Chanyeol’s accepted ever since.

The music ends and the woman in his arms halt and pull away to bow and run off to the other noble ladies, still giggling and glancing at him, eyes teasing but mocking still.

Chanyeol sighs and makes his way back to his seat beside his father, feet aching from dancing too much today. Just when he was leaving the floor, a hand grabs his wrist and he looks to see his future king, a boy shorter than him with wide eyes and skin so pale the boy looked fragile and yet equally bright under the natural sunlight that pierced through the room.

Chanyeol, startled for a moment, bows deep before him. “Your Grace.”

“I can’t help but notice the way the women looked at you while they danced with you.” The boy says. By now, the room has descended into hushed whispers, watching as the scene unfolds. “I think it’s rude.” He adds loudly this time, not forgetting to glance curtly at the group of noble ladies hustled in a corner, his eyes sharp with irritation. The ladies fidget in their skirts and avoid the future king’s eyes in shame and guilt.

“Noble ladies such as them should be honored, rather, to have been given the privilege to dance with a noble lord like you, Chanyeol.” He continues, voice still loud and ringing across the expanse of the room. “And I, myself, would love to have that privilege as well.”

Chanyeol gasps, eyebrows furrowed in question as he looks at the boy incredulously. “Y-your Grace?”

“You heard me.” The boy says, smiling softly. “Dance with me, Park Chanyeol.”

 

Park Chanyeol has resolved to training harder than usual, his sword slashing quick and a blur in the air.

At first, training was a sure way for him to succeed leadership to his house as his father always preferred him over any potential successor among his relatives and allies. This time, however, he finds the idea less satisfying.

Why when he could become a knight in his king’s ranks, the same king he met and danced with on that fateful day of his eighteenth birthday?

He would never forget the way the king smiled softly at him as he led both of them across the dance floor, or the way the king pursed his pinkish lips as he chuckled whenever Chanyeol so much as made a small stumble whilst they twirl, or especially the way the king’s breath would hitch as Chanyeol tightened his grip around the lithe waist.

That very moment, Chanyeol wished the king would’ve never asked for. It was only adding fuel to the preconceived notions of who he was as a person, most importantly or in other words rather, of the king’s sexuality. And Chanyeol never wished ill or distraught to the king for the rumors that surrounded his whole existence.

But Baekhyun was only as genuine as those rumors say, as delightful and beautiful, and Chanyeol would have to admit that part was true. And the king danced for long minutes with the lord, spun in circles with the tall, lanky Park heir, and murmured only good words for him to never forget.

And Chanyeol never forgot.

Which was why he was right there in the center of the fighting arena, sword dangling by his side and a fresh bloody corpse at his feet, the innards red and slightly throbbing as they rest on the man's face.

The screams were thunderous as they celebrated his victory and demanded he take off his head gear for the king to acknowledge.

The king, who was seated on an elevated platform in his velvet blue robes and golden crown, look down on him in complete acknowledgement and awe painted on his features that never seemed to age despite time.

“You fought magnificently, sir.” He says. “For that, I thank you. Now, come closer and remove your helmet. Then tell me your name and what you desire. With all the power bestowed upon me as king of these lands, I shall grant it.”

He proceeds to move closer to the platform, metal armor clanking against one another with each step and he halts when the king’s guards lower their weapons and direct them at him.

The arena is reduced to hushed whispers as they wait with bated breaths for Chanyeol to do so and when he finally does, the audience returns to gossip.

There is a sparkle in the king’s eyes and a grin on his lips as he watches Chanyeol kneel on one leg before him and raise a clenched fist against his chest.

“I am Park Chanyeol, heir and lord to my father’s noble house and I ask to join your kingsguard, Your Grace.”

“You wish to join my kingsguard?” The king muses. “Why so?”

“I feel as if I was made to do so, Your Grace. The desire and need is overpowering, more than the duty of succeeding my father’s house. And I know nothing will ever make me happy than serve and so need be, give up my life for you.”

The arena voices approval for Chanyeol’s words and the king hums as his advisers flocking both his sides lean to whisper in his ear. He orders them back with a wave of his hand and speaks.

“Very well, then. Park Chanyeol, I name you my Kingsguard. Now, pick up your sword and rise.”

He stands up to the booming applause heard all throughout the arena and makes his way beside the king whose eyes still sparkle at him but lips smiling softly, like the way they once were during that day when he showed him nothing but kindness.

And Chanyeol knows the king knows, that he remembers who he is and where he’s from, what they did on the dance floor and what they did not, so Chanyeol smiles back.


End file.
